


Love for $ale

by Sept_Meules



Series: Anything-Under-the-Sun!Will Graham [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Falling In Love, Hannibal & Bedelia are like BFFs, I made Hannibal grow water monkeys, Jazz singer!Will, Lesbian!Abigail, M/M, Not Beta Read, Painting Auction, Poor Abigail, Tattoed Beverly, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:12:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sept_Meules/pseuds/Sept_Meules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is a jazz singer. Hannibal is his usual self. Bedelia loves her jazz lounges and takes Hannibal for an afternoon out. </p><p>Hannibal, high maintenance as his life is, never thought of the phrase 'love at first song'. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: This is my most favourite characterization of Abigail.  
> I made Hannibal disgusted with cannibalism.  
> I keep giving Bedelia a powerful role, a silent force that lead Hannibal to meet Will just like in 'Just a few kibbles'. 
> 
> A/N: Let us imagine that Will can sing similarly to Jamie Cullum as Will will cover alot of his songs. 

Bedelia, bless her soul, is such a dear friend to one Dr. Hannibal Lecter. They have been friends since they started their careers. Best friends. Close friends. BFFFE Frederick Chilton had called them (Bedelia asked what the acronym means, he answered "Best Friends For Fucking Ever). When something happens to one the other is ready by the phone to pick up first on the first ring. The other doctors were sceptic about this fact, Frederick adduced 'Bedelia had her hair hair cut, Hannibal asks how short'. Bedelia made sure to install a toy cockroach in his desk drawer the next morning. 

Unbeknowst to others, Hannibal had bared open to Bedelia all his secrets: the painful death of his baby sister, he had a crush on his aunt, he intentionally killed two or three of his patients under his knife, he likes caramel over natural honey. Oh, and he fancies men. 

The latter secret Bedelia uses as an alibi to wink at Hannibal when a good-looking man passes them. 

Bedelia knows every secret Hannibal has. And because of Bedelia, Will knows the secret that Bedelia knows his secrets. 

 

The setting of the story starts of in a red-brick wall, New York-esque, studio apartment. The homeowner had reported that the whole building used to be a manufacturing factory, and each floor (four storeys) had been divided into four separate apartments. The quaint apartment has its own rustic charm with its natural light coming from the window facing Hannibal. The furniture are wooden, easily bought in flea-markets. One chair that broke the rustic feel of the over all interior design of the apartment was the Industrial-styled leather one-sitter by the corner of the living room rug that has a chest for a table and a gramophone and vinyl records in anticipation to be played. 

Hannibal can be seen sitting on the dining room table with a mug of mediocre coffee in his clasped hands, its steam going up, disappearing into the atmosphere. The homeowner had excused himself to answer a call in the living room. Hannibal doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but he can hear the one-sided sotto voce conversation very well. 

The surgeon sees the back of the man facing his direction, a polite attempt to conceal his call. All Hannibal would voluntarily perceive is the man's well-placed figure: lax shoulders, lean arms, a good ass, strong pair of legs. And all that Hannibal sees through the man's cardigan and acid-washed jeans. 

"...thanks alot, Bev." A well placed laugh. "Yeah, I owe you my whole career! See ya. Loves." He ends the call and pockets his phone. He turns back to Hannibal with an embarassed smile. "That was my friend-cum-agent." He sits on the table, in front his forsaken coffee mug. "If it isn't for her, I'd be rotting in the back alley."

Hannibal offers a smile. 

This beautiful man is Will Graham. A proffessional jazz singer. He plays around Baltimore lounges, jazz clubs; on occasion, a wedding or some middle-aged woman's birthday. And it is in a jazz club at 5 in the evening that Hannibal meets him, if not the various times of thier eyes meeting while Will sang a song he said is called 'Can't We Be Friends', to complete the theatricality of the song the singer pouts and rolls his eyes while he pounds gracefully on an organ. When thier eyes meet, Will was grinning and winked at Hannibal with all the playfulness in the world. The song was very light and carefree. If it were to be the opera, Dr. Hannibal Lecter would have raised a statement in the Board of Committee to ban Will. But he is a jazz singer, and he humours Hannibal's fancy. 

"What were we talking about before Bev called?" Will asks. 

"I asked you about pets."

"Oh," Will says in exasperation. 

To Hannibal, Will Graham is an enigma, not an oddball, as one may see Will passing the streets and would not give him a second glance, because of being such a mystery, Hannibal, as sharp as he is, cannot read him like an open book. More like a book's flutterring pages in the autumn breeze. And that's about it. 

"You know I came from Louisiana, I speak a little of Creole and Cajun." Hannibal chuckles at the memory of that. "And growing as a sick kid in Lou, our backyard was a swamp. I had a pet baby crocodile twice, my brothers would snatch an egg from a croc's nest. It was very, very dangerous. The mama crocodile would sometimes run after them, biting at their ankles. Mom would scold them. I did when I learned stealing someone's baby is bad."

Hannibal laughs. 

"But now I own two dogs. Winston and  Applesauce. They're in Bev's today, I don't know why I agreed to lend them to her." He raises his eyes to the doctor. "How about you?"

"I grew water monkeys in a tank once." 

Will's laughter is heavenly. 

"But other than that, I didn't have pets during my childhood. My mother prohibited me from touching a cat's fur when I beckoned it to come closer." 

"My turn." They are playing 20 Questions, Will is on his 10th.

Hannibal gestures for him to go on. 

"What was your childhood like?"

When Bedelia met Hannibal, she thought he was of blue blood. Hannibal walked around with his head held up and steps in rhythm to that of a nobleman's. In some thought, Hannibal _is_ of noble blood. He's from a line of patriarchial counts in Lithuania. And it seems that he's cutting the rope, by becoming a doctor. Uncle Robertus was frustrated with this, but slowly accepted Hannibal's choice. 

"I loved going to the river near our home." Evasive. "With my sister." A follow up question for sure. "And we'd try to catch the little fishes with our hands." 

Hannibal doesn't know his eyes are downcast and lost in nostalgia, reaching for a memory already with chthonians spirits. His hands cupped to form a bowl-like figure, imagining small fishes in his hands, beside him his once beloved sister smiling and telling him of the funny fishes. 

"Until Mother would call us in for high tea."

He pauses in mid-thought. "She died." He mutters, saying it before Will could ask the inevitable question. "An SUV accident. Uncle Robertus was backing up, he didn't see her." He closes his eyes. "I'm sorry." He whispers, shutting his eyes as if to erase the portait to from his mind. 

Will puts a comforting hand over Hannibal's. 

Hannibal diverts his eyes from the table to Will. Will who had a sympathetic look, one reserved for him. 

"You don't have to tell me about her."

He nods, but his neck doesn't move. 

 

Let us go to an earlier scene. 

 

Abigail Hobbs may be Hannibal's favourite of all the young doctors that had passed under him in training. So Hannibal just had to write a recommendation letter for her to the Board to put under consideration to hire Dr. Abigail Hobbs, no matter the controversy that her mother killed her father when Abigail was just a teenager, and is now staying in a sanitarium. 

Abigail Hobbs is Hannibal's disciple, she absorbs what she can from the practical things Hannibal tells her when they walk down the hall or when they eat lunch together. 

"Dr. Boyle made the incision unnecessarily long," Abigail commented as she stabbed her plastic fork on an unsuspecting potato. "It caused complications, the lining was bad, the estimated time was prolonged. It would have just finished in under four hours. The stitch spilled two pints of blood than estimated."

"Have you confronted Dr. Boyle on the matter?" He questions before he has to listen to Abigail rant about Nicholas Boyle's list of mistakes for the entierty of his lunch break. 

Abigail has a bitter look upon her juvanescent features. "He's still bitter towards me."

Hannibal gave a questioning look. 

"I dated his sister for a while. Then we broke up, and then I met Marissa." She says in nonchalance, waving her fork around in circles.

This shocked her mentor. Said reaction shocked the student. 

"You're a lesbian?"

"I thought you knew?"

Hannibal is frozen with his fork near to stabbing his shredded chicken. "So I take it that the girl who meets up with you at times is not  _just_ a friend?"

"She's Marissa." Abigail replies. "She's my girlfriend."

"Oh."

"I hope my sexual orientation does not taint your judgement of me?" She questions warily. 

"No..." he looks down at his lunch. "Actualy." He pauses. Abigail could be sensed to be curious at the sudden take of thier conversation. "How do you do it?"

"Sorry?"

"What does one _feel_ when one feel attracted to the same sex?"

To hear your mentor ask you on a matter so serious as Love, and sound so unsure, it shocks Abigail. 

Learning is a give and take process. 

"Well," she starts "uhm, you feel you want to be with them everytime. And, uhm, when you're with them, you can't help but feel happy. Like you're a balloon filled with so much air and you're in the verge of popping." Being a student of Dr. Hannibal Lecter is a different matter that should have it's own masteral degree. Call it Lecter Philosophy. "And then, uhm," she have never felt embarassed in her life. "You can't help but imagine them with you in your future doing intimate stuff?"

"'Intimate stuff' being?" 

"Uhh..." she blinks, "kitchen top sex?"

Hannibal stares at her. Abigail is ready to cry. 

Both are quiet for quite some time, a nurse popped his head inside Hannibal's office to make sure no one was in trouble. When he thought that both were having a staring contest and Abigail seem to be losing, he left. 

"What if I only have the former two of your symptoms, Dr. Hobbs?"

She lets out the puff of breath she didn't know she kept. She uses the back of her hand to wipe the sweat of her temple. "Oh, then either its a puppy-love or a path leading to the third symptom." Since when did they make love a sickness? "In my theory, when all three symptoms are present, then its a long-term relationship thing."

 

Aside from the opera, surgery consoltations, and frolicking around Baltimore with Bedelia, Dr. Hannibal Lecter also likes to go to museums. And apparently, one had opened 15 minutes away from his house. He would have invited Bedelia, or Abigail, but both were busy. He could have also asked Will, but-- he can't do it. 

The museum he would go to is a promotion for young painters and sculptures from the less fortunate vicinities of Europe by giving them a chance to show thier oevure. 

Usually, Hannibal wouldn't come to this kind of showcases, amateurs, but something inside his dark, dark soul is a light that had been blooming ever since he met Will. The jazz singer confessed he was less fortunate when he grew up, and when he hitchhiked up to Baltimore to pursue his dream as a singer. 

"Hannibal!" Exclaims a familiar voice. 

He knows who it belongs to. And it just had to be this place too. Suddenly, being here made Hannibal feel ashamed. Him and his three-piece suits. Why did he even opened his e-mail and read the advertisement for this museum? 

"Hello Will."

Will Graham, in his own adorable way of clothing himself, (a gray sweater over a blue shirt peeking from the bottom of his sweater, and suede boots on black pants) smiled with all the charm in the world, stopped jogging from the man he was speaking with and stopped when he is two feet from the surgeon "Hey," he says rather breathlessly.

Hannibal doesn't know what would have made Will so breathless.

"Didn't know this kind of museum is your scene." 

"No, not usually. But I do like a whiff of fresh air by appreciating artists of this era."

"Yeah, this isn't really my place to show either. Bev's friend who just came from Europe to compile these just asked her to endorse." He made a circular gesture to the paintings and sculptures. "I'm just here for moral support."

They keep quiet. 

"Oh! Why don't I introduce you to her!" Will looked around the room, seemingly finding the lady he tells Hannibal off. "Georgia!"

In normal circumstances, he would have felt annoyed for having a companion bellow beside him. But it's Will. Will gorgeous Graham. But Hannibal would never say it out loud. 

A young woman, younger by a few years than Will approaches them. She smiles up to Hannibal, "Hello, I'm Georgia Madchen!" she says when she saw that she does not know Hannibal.

Hannibal returns the smile as they shake thier hands in pleasantries. "Dr. Hannibal Lecter, surgeon."

"Oh cool! So you must know Dr. Bedelia du Maurier! Dr. Maurier is like really into jazz so Will knows her, and I met her one time too--" Will silently reproaches her. "Sorry, I'm just excited! We're auctioning selected paintings later." She looks down at her wrist watch. "In less than thirty minutes. Hope you can stay, Dr. Lecter! Pleasure meeting you, excuse me." She nods to the surgeon and beams at Will. She turns on her heel and runs to the man Will was talking too a minute ago.

Will turns to Hannibal, "You don't have to stay." He says with a half wince. "Georgia's real young." 

"The youth are the future." Hannibal tells him. "Without them, the human species would diminish."

This caused Will to laugh so infectiously, that Hannibal couldn't help smile back. 

"All right, so you're staying." Will says, wiping a tear from his eye. "Can I interest you to a lunch date then, Dr. Lecter?"

"I would like that very much."

The auctioning started with pieces in cool colors, and Will supplied Hannibal better commentaries on every painting that passed than the one who officiated the auctioning. 

"The better paintings are after the cubist Starry Night, in my opinion."

Hannibal nods, subconscious agreeing with Will, even though in normal circumstances he wouldn't. There's just something about Will that his brain just want to agree with everytime Will opens his mouth. 

What the jazz singer said is true. After the cubist Starry Night, the next three paintings were of better magnitude and universality. Then the fourth.

"Subject is Baltimore's very own Will Graham, the jazz singer. Reportedly, the painter said that after Mr. Graham had finished his performance he just had to put down the feelings he acquired into what it was. The painter actually had never painted in his life!"

The other patrons chuckle. 

Hannibal was meaning to ask Will of this, but the singer groans. "Matthew can paint." He mutters. "He ran out of the restaurant when I finished singing. So I thought he was a crazy person. But he came back a week later and showed me the painting."

"Is that true?" Hannibal asks cautiously. 

Will chuckles darkly, sardonically. "I would never lie to you, Doctor. Though, Matthew is somehow schitzotypal. He came to me because I understood what he was talking about."

Hannibal raises a brow, "Are you implying you're schizotypal?"

"It takes a cat to understand another cat." He responds crytically, eyes still staring at the painting. 

"Let us start at $55!" The woman officiating the auction exclaims.

A woman, who had been staring at Will since they came to watch the auction, raises her hand silently. 

"55! Do I hear 100?" A calvous man at the back in a black turtleneck raises his hand. "100! Any takers at 160?"

The woman raises her hand again. 

"160! 190? 190! 240?" A woman with a lot of tattos on her arms enters the competion. "240! 300?"

Will seems to be sour about this, "What are these people doing? They waste money on a canvas with paint smudged on it."

To Will, raised in a poor family, a painting is a useless decor. This time, Hannibal disagrees. 

With the texture and the colour theme, Hannibal immediately understood it to be jazz, but to say it is Will Graham the jazz player, the worth is raised exponentially. 

"These people know art when they see it." Hannibal comments. 

Will scoffs, adamantly.

"And I do too." He raises his hand, "500!"

"500! Any number to compete that?"

"650!" Says the woman who had been staring at Will. 

"1,000!" Hannibal argued. 

"1,300!" Says the woman, visibly glaring at Hannibal. Will glared at her in Hannibal's defense. 

"2,000."

"3,400!"

Will spoke up, "What the hell, Alana?!"

"$4,000, Doctor?" The officiating woman questions Hannibal, friendly. 

Hannibal nods.

"4,000? Anymore? Calling once, twice, sold to Dr. Doctor! Next! A painting using mustard and..."

Will scoffs, hands folded ober his chest, expression pointed at Hannibal, "You're richer than I reckoned you to be."

"I'm a patron of the arts. I understood the beauty of the subject." Hannibal says cooly. 

"Are you flirting with me, Doctor?" Will asks jokingly. "If you are, you should buy me dinner first."

The woman-- Alana, if Hannibal remembers correctly-- gave a glancing glare at Hannibal before fleeing the museum. Hannibal watched after her retreating figure. 

"Gladly."

 

To secretly wine and dine the fine Will Graham, is an uncredited desire of Hannibal Lecter. To watch the jazz singer's Adam's Apple bob as he downed his second half-glass of wine; to chuckle at his corny, but adorable, jokes; to help him put his jacket on; to nearly kiss him, if not for the dogs breaking the romantic tension building up between them when they were breathing each other. 

"Who is this guy?" Abigail asks on thier lunch together. "Sex doesn't change a person, but true love does."

Hannibal grunts. 

"Any hint?"

"Jazz."

"Michael Bublé?"

Hannibal is not amused. 

Abigail gives him an unapologetic grin. "Sorry."

Hannibal drinks the iced coffee Abigail brought from those hipster milk tea shops. Yes, Hannibal is drinking from a straw. 

"He must be traveling around." Abigail surmises. "Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the doctor is out, medical certificate says 'carousing with my jazz bae'. If not, 'playing notes at 9 to midnight'." She winks at her mentor. 

If not for the wink, Hannibal wouldn't have understood her innuedo by context. 

"We haven't had sex." He tells her. 

Abigail is bug-eyed. "Are you seriously serious?!" She exclaims in obnoxious disbelief. 

The nurse pops hi  
\- head in, "Everything all right?"

Abigail snaps her head to him, "Dr. Lecter is seeing a man romantically and haven't had sex yet!" She says harshly. 

The nurse lets his jaw drop comically. "What is a relationship if you haven't had sex?!" He closes the door behind him and joins them. 

Hannibal groans, "Nurse Barney, please."

Barney raises a brow at him, "Doc, come on." He turns to Abigail, "Who is this creature of the light that our Doc can't drag into the dark?"

Abigail shrugs, "Michael Bublé."

Barney turns to Hannibal, "A jazz singer?"

"Oh!" Abigail picks her phone. Barney moves to read over her shoulder, "Jazz singer... Will Graham?" She reads from her phone, "Ooh, hottie." She teasingly slyly mutters. "I can be a proxy if you have an appointment."

"And if she can't, I'll do it." Barney offers. 

Both Abigail and Hannibal stare at him in disbelief. 

He raises his hands in defense, shrugging "Just sayin'."

"Dr. du Maurier is more than happy to supply me with _beautiful_ pictures of Will Graham." Abigail says as she lswipes her finger to sweep to another picture. 

Hannibal groans, taking out his phone and sped dial Bedelia, hissing  _"Stop."_

 _"Uhm, okay?"_ Came Will Graham voice. 

The fact that Hannibal froze for an entire minute made both Abigail and Barney laugh and hi-five each other. They know who picked up. 

How come Will Graham picked up? Hannibal had only punched in his number and that's it. They have been running into each other alot of times that Hannibal had deem it absonant to have to call him just to hear his beautiful voice. 

The surgeon groaned mentally. When Bedelia invited him out for brunch to that cute café. Hannibal left his phone beside his teacup when he went to the relieve himself, Bedelia must've took his phone and changed his speed dial, then she placed back his phone beside his teacup before he came back. 

Two started singing a Beyoncé song. Like dumb children, this time it isn't 'Twinkle Twinkle' but a Beyoncé song. 

 _"Karaoke Night?"_ Will asks amicably. Then he gave some thought on his question,  _"Can't be Karaoke Night, it's only 12 noon."_

Hannibal covers the microphone part of his phone, glowering at the imbeciles. "Shut up." Then back to Will, "Forgive me, my workmates are attempting to play leapfrog."

Barney gasp, retorting "We are not!"

Will chuckles,  _"I've been there before. Can I... Is it a good time to talk?"_

Giving a cautious look at the two who were giggling at Abigail's phone, "I believe so."

_"Oh good. Because I have to apologize for what happened back at the auction. You see, Alana-- the woman-- used to be my girlfriend. She doesn't do well with people around me whom she doesn't know. So... Yeah."_

Hannibal hums. Undignified, but acceptable to Will.

"Anyway, I'm playing tonight at the lounge, just a heads up, because I can't contact Bedelia. She tends to know when I am playing where, and she would probably drag you there 'cause 'the more the merrier', right?"

The two started on a Taylor Swift song. 

"All right."

"Thanks for hearing me out, it's wierd explaining old exes to new friends. Or friend. I don't really do well in the making friends department. So--uhmp-- I should-- stop-- babbling. Sorry. Thanks though! I'll see you. Bye!--" Then he hangs up. 

"Take us with you!" Abigail practically screams when Hannibal pocketed his phone. 

He glares at them, making Abigail put a finger across her lips in a childish way.   
 

 

"So this is your bachelor's pad." Will states as he entered the den. "Where all the magic takes place?"

Hannibal chuckles, "I'd say that the dining room is where the magic takes place."

Will huffs a laugh, "Ah, a gustatory painter."

"Indeed." 

Will sees a mini sculpture of a stag at the corner of Hannibal's wooden desk, the focal point and lietmotif of the room. He approaches it like a kid who just found the biggest candy in the store. The stag looks oligeanous; shiny. Proud and majestic with its antlers pointing threateningly up at the air, Will is somehow gracious that Hannibal doesn't own a kid and make alethal mistake of impaling the child with such art. Then again, Hannibal is clever enough to not own either a dangerous sculpture or a kid. In this case, the latter. 

As soon as Will's hands touched the cool metal medium of the art, his mind whizzed and whirled with questions and theories as to how Hannibal had obtained it, why he owned it and when. "So pretty. Mysterious, but the story must be enlightening." He say the last phrase turning his body to Hannibal, expecting the surgeon to tell him. 

And why would Hannibal deny him that?

Hannibal stands near Will's left shoulder, but never near enough to be considered uncomfortable. "It represents the wendigo. A cannibal creature who was once man, drawn to the brink of starvation that he ate his companions. Hence, he became obsessed by the taste of human flesh and turned into a wendigo."

Will is awfully still. Then turns his neck to Hannibal with suspicious eyes. "Are you implying something doctor?"

"Oh no, dear Will." He says, an amused smile on his face, "I think that cannibalism is a horrific act."

Will turns back to the sculpture, whispering to himself, "Well, what a great way of foreplay."

"Come again?" 

Will turns around to face the man. "This wendigo. It is interesting." He gives a shy smile, something that caused for Hannibal's self-proclaimed cold heart to beat erraticly, no matter the millisecond it happened. "Just as you are."

Hannibal smiles back. 

 

Will Graham looks mad when he entered the lounge. Stomping and dodging people trying to clamp him on the shoulder. He storms straight to Bev. 

Bev is stunned, dazed by this part of Will. 

"I haven't pierce any of your dogs' ear have I?" She asks, to know what she have done to cause Will to be mad at her. His glare is icy, somehow complementing his blue-gray eyes, it makes Bev's skin have goosebumps on her arms, she rubs her bare arms with her hands. The goosebumps made the various animals and symbols imprinted on her skin look sickly. 

"No." He says through gritted teeth. 

"Then what have I done to his Highness to rain on my parade?" Bev should've brought a jacket. 

"I wish you didn't know about my homosexuality." He mutters. 

This took Bev in surprise. "Huh."

"This Hannibal man..." he drawls. 

"How long have you been seeing each other?" Bev inquires. 

"A month."

"And you haven't had sex?" She asks so crassly the waiter a table away from them turned his head to them. Will glared at her. "Sorrynotsorry. What about him?"

"His high maintenance façade is a heavy wall, no, a series of walls." Will is frustrated as he says this. "A fucking fortress."

Bev cracked a smile. "So?" She can't connect the dots if she can't pick the colour. Will said 'my homosexuality', 'Hannibal', no sex, and 'façade', to top it all, Will is Miss Prissy-Pants. Bev is picking between pink or green. 

"I'm... I think I'm falling for him."

 

Bedelia is agape. 

Hannibal takes a sip of his wine.

"Are you sure, Hannibal?"

"Yes." He answers so grimly. 

"You  _think_ you're in love with Will Graham? The jazz singer?" This one is for the books, Bedelia is sure to be the scribe and receive some sort of Nobel Prize for discovering the cure of the disorder Hannibal Lecter. Who would have thought that it only required such a simple cure in the form of a jazz singer? It seems Bedelia threw a rock at the sky and she got clonked on the head by the very same rock. Then she laughs. 

"This is a serious matter." 

"That's the irony of it all. To see General Hannibal, a great man, the man who led the elephants over the Alps," Hannibal says he didn't do it "his weakness is something of children's storybooks! Love!" She broke off into another shrill laughter, one approriate of a woman of Bedelia's time. 


	2. Chapter 2

Let us go back to the time they both met...

_"I missed the opportunity To get you babe To stay with me."_

Bedelia led Hannibal by the hand inside the jazz lounge. Hannibal was becoming restless recently. He couldn't sleep. Bedelia couldn't diagnose if it was 'I can't relax' kind of restless or 'energetic' restless. So her prescription was a 'small push to the right direction' --er, _pull_ to the right direction.

So to comply with the doctor's orders, Bedelia pulled her bestfriend to her favourite jazz lounge (she has a crush on the trumpet-player) where her favourite jazz singer sings. 

_"Never thought, I'd regret The excuses that I've made Like a song, it will fade."_

"Bedelia, I have my own sense of direction, excuse me." Hannibal says as he and Bedelia picked their table. 

Bedelia laughed merrily. 

Hannibal smiled. Only when she's in the atmosphere of her favourite things, jazz being that, is she this open with her happiness. Otherwise, she hits Hannibal's shoulder and grins at him. 

"This jazz singer is legit, I want you to listen and let your soul _dance_ , Hannibal." She placed her purse on the table and hailed a waiter. 

She ordered them a bottle of wine. 

Hannibal watched her as she chatted with the waiter. The manner she talked to the man gave the impression that she was a constant regular here. Not just the Sunday regular, but a regular-regular. 

"Thanks, Jim!" She exclaimed as the waiter left to get their wine. She turned back to Hannibal with a wide grin. 

Hannibal nodded then looked up at the stage wherey a man was playing an organ while he craned his head up to the mic. 

 _"If there's music in the night, And it's really, really right, It's the only thing I need. It intoxicates your mind All your troubles left behind."_ Sang the man on stage. 

The band behind him were wearing lazy grins as they played. Even their mind had been intoxicated by the singer. 

_"So come on and take my lead. It's not just me who feels it Music plays a mind trick Watch me forget about missing you."_

Out of the blue, Bedelia raised her arms and snapped her fingers in beat. 

Hannibal took into account who this man is. How he practically brainwashed Dr. Bedelia du Maurier. A black blazer over a gray tee, and black slacks. Laid-back if you'd ask Hannibal. Especially with unkept curly hair and eyes that seem to see everything as he shifted his eyes around the room, and-- what a lovely face. 

_"So I put my feelings out to dry Love, one day again, I'll have to try. Falling out, making up It seems such a silly game. Why do I never gain?"_

He lets his jaw slack, his mouth gaping a bit. 

"Pretty, ain't he?" Bedelia asked beside him. 

Hannibal didn't reply, he took his phone out, instead, to read text messages and reply to emails. Avoiding the smug looks Bedelia gifts him, also avoiding even the nameless singer onstage. 

"I wanna say 'hey' to my number 1 fan in here."

Hannibal looked up from his phone and saw that the singer was standing up from the organ, taking the microphone with him. How long was Hannibal preoccupied with his phone?

"Bedelia the Physician."

Bedelia laughed, as did the small crew that runs the place. 

The singer chuckles. 

Hannibal turned to Bedelia. 

She dismissed him with a swat of a hand. "Inside joke." She explained. As if that explained anything. 

"You see when I first met Miss Bedelia, its by that bar over there, sipping a margarita --Bri's margarita is glorious-- and so I approached her, 'cause she's blonde and all." The other patrons of the lounge chuckle. The band starts, the singer backsteps to the organ and kicks the stool inside. _"I thought I found the girl of my dreams, So it seems. This is how the story goes I'm gunna let her turn me down, And say 'Can't we be friends'."_ He glances back to the their table, he doesn't catch Bedelia's eyes, but Hannibal's. 

Hannibal didn't react. The singer's smile became wider. Then as if they were the only ones in the room, it was like the singer was talking to Hannibal with the song, retelling him a story of a girl.

And Hannibal just sat there, listening to him. 

 

"Hello, stranger." 

Hannibal turned to face the source of the voice to his right. It's the singer. 

"Hello." He replies coolly, not that he intended to be cold. 

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance. " He says playfully with a tinge of a British accent. 

Not that Hannibal has any language kink that Bedelia coaxed him into having, (and that's another interesting story set to be told in another time), but he likes the poshness of the singer's voice. 

"I liked your song." Hannibal tries to break the ice. 

The singer gives Hannibal a heart-melting smile, one that must've been tried on Bedelia but failed on epic proportions. 

"Good." The singer heaves, as if what Hannibal had said had been the conclusion of that evening's events. He sits on the stool beside Hannibal. 

Hannibal almost forgets why he's at the bar. Ordering drinks for himself and Bedelia. He've been standing here for more than neccessary and the bartender had not been available since. He continues his idle chit-chat with the singer. 

"Was it for Bedelia?"

The singer scoffs, not looking at Hannibal directly, "Pfft. Not at all. It's about about my last relationship. It was messy."

"She must've been reluctant to let you go." Hannibal offers. 

" _I_ was the sobbing mess, actually." The singer says. "Cried my heart out when he said 'it's over'."

Hannibal hums, "'He?'" he echoes. 

"Oh yeah, I'm gay. But I don't like being the elephant in the room, draws too much attention." He turns to Hannibal with an incredulous look, facing him fully. "Why is it easy to talk to you? I feel so open sitting beside you. Are you a therapist or something?"

"A surgeon." Hannibal corrects, turning to him. 

The singer chuckles, "Very... _fishy_."

Hannibal smiles. He let's this one person slip for making a cheesy joke about him being a surgeon, actually, the singer implied Hannibal's a sturgeon, but it's adorable. 

"I'm Will Graham, singer of jazz."

"Hannibal Lecter."

Will smiles mysteriously, "I know."

 

Let us go enter the TARDIS and escape the enraged Time Lord...

Abigail blinks as she spots her mentor brooding in front his laptop. "Dr. Lecter? Did you need me?"

Hannibal does not look up from the screen. "Please close the door after you."

Sheesh, even from her place by the door, she can feel his mopey-ness. 

She closes the door behind her and stands in front his desk. "What's up, doc?"

"Dr. Hobbs, I may need your expertise once more."

"Expertise on what, exactly?"

"On Homosexual Love."

She grimaces. "You say it like we live in the 1940's," she tells him, taking her seat, "and I just watched The Avengers last night and read all the Stony fanfics I can get my hands on."

Hannibal leaves the laptop, "Actually, Captain America was from the 20's, and I was just doing the same thing."

Abigail's brows goes up, "Watching The Avengers?"

"Reading fanfiction."

Abigail hums a laugh. "So, what's the problem?"

"I am truly in love with a man I met one and a half month ago, though we have not officially went on a date yet." Hannibal looks at Abigail before continuing. "So, I want to make it official by making the first step: ask him on a legitimate date."

"Okay?"

Hannibal catches the uncertainty in Abigail's voice, "Am I making you uncomfortable? Is it too upfront?"

She smiles to herself, shaking her head a bit, "Uh, no, not that. Other people would really be uncomfortable, but not me, I know you, not wholly, but I know you." She looks her mentor in the eyes, "What stops you from asking him on a date, Dr. Lecter? The worst thing that could happen is rejection, and that's it. Always look at the bright side, at least you asked, at least you found the good in him to be intrested in him. So--" she notices something, a pencil in Hannibal's hand, "Are you writing this down?"

Hannibal's head perks up, "Is it odd?"

"Unless you're gonna make a book out of it, it's not." She deadpans. 

 

Bev is in her best ensemble yet. A strapless black leather camisole that shows her stomach and the other tattoos on her lower ribs. Red jumpers holding her camou pants. And black combat boots that she bought to pair up with Will's. 

And talking about Will, he's on the piano. 

"How was the thing?" She asks as she approaches him. 

Will does not stop, "He asked me on a date."

"So you didn't do it?" She questions. 

"We met for a month, Bev! How the hell could I be so fucking impulsive?!" He pounds on a minor key. "Ask him to be my soulmate. What the absolute fuck. We've only met for a month, and I'm already thinking of him being my soulmate."

Bev steps up the small platform of a stage and sits on the stool. "Yeah, you may be impulsive with your lovelife and the Friday set list, but your luck isn't running out, Will Hanni-Graham."

He gives her a tired stare. "Really." Unamused.

"Hey, Bri, Jim and I had been busting our asses to find the best couple name for the two of you." She defends, raising her hands. "Anyway, you may still need to wait."

"How long?" He asks drily. "How long should I wait before I can burden him with my question?"

She shrugs, "A month more? A year? Five years probably. But remember, Will, if you just enjoy him right now, don't think of the future too much, he might even stick longer than the last one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm insane and unpredictable!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Moral of the story: not all romantic relationships start at sex. 
> 
> I don't know how to continue this. Please please please!! Give me any ideas, if you like more of this AU.


End file.
